


son, fear is the heart of love

by reformedcharacter



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death, Sad Robert Sugden
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-13 19:18:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11766597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reformedcharacter/pseuds/reformedcharacter
Summary: sorta episode fix it (10/8/17)robert struggles with the damage to his dad's grave.





	son, fear is the heart of love

Theres a bee buzzing around Robert’s ear, the sound sending chills down his spine as he reaches the gate. The metal is cold as he reaches out to grab it, pale fingers shaking as he pushes down and pulls, pebbles kicking out at him, scuffing at his shoes. He’s worn his best: brown shoes, brown belt, his hands shaking slightly too much to wrap his tie around his aching neck, tossing it out of his hands and on to the bed before stepping out of the door.

He’d headed to the shop first, footsteps heavy underneath him. A small selection of orchids for his mum; he’d researched it a small time after her death, _‘the delicate, exotic and graceful orchid represents love, luxury, beauty and strength’_ , he’d scoffed, closed the book and refused to visit her grave that day, instead he hide in his room, blanket pulled up, face buried in her favourite book, and he’d been okay.

He’d chose a bottle of scotch for his dad in the end, hands gliding over the bottle delicately, before handing over a shaking twenty pound over to David, his meaningless rambling almost silent to Robert’s ringing ears.

The walk to the graves has never gotten easier, he’d visited with Vic several months ago, her hand tight around his, pointing at the graves that passed them. Some of them bright, flowers blooming around them, a cacophony of colour. Some are unkempt, weeds creeping up the sides, wrapping around the curled letters, almost choking them, Robert can’t look at them, can’t face the familiar feeling crawling up his throat and squeezing tightly. One day he will lie here, tucked in tight six feet under, he doesn’t want to think about how his grave will look to passers by, he doesn’t want to think about how a cold slab of rock will represent his life, he doesn’t want to think about how it may look as lonely as he feels.

His parents are tucked away in the corner, laying side by side for all eternity. It sounds cliche, like something from a bad 80’s movie poster. It had been what he had wanted, Diane had told Robert later, said he wanted somewhere his children could remember their family as it should have been, not how it ended. Robert had laughed, snorted ‘hypocrite’ under his breath and returned his attention to Chrissie, ignoring the dull thudding at the pit of his stomach, if he focused on her enough, suddenly it didn’t matter as much.

It’s as he turns the corner he notices it. He skids to halt, heels digging into the mud underneath. He’s cold suddenly, the sun beating down on his face, can feel beads of sweat rippling down his back, running as fast he wants to. The edge of the grave is jagged, a pile of residue fallen onto the grass below, the writing is scratched , the dark black engraving now a faded grey, small dents surrounding ‘Loving Father’. Robert wants to laugh at the irony, he swallows around the lump in his throat and reaches out, lightly tracing the broken corner. It’s sharp, pointed, ruined.

He could run, drop his mums flowers, press a soft kiss to the cold marble, return to a warm home, wrap himself tightly in Aaron’s embrace as he falls to the ground, his husband shushing his tears gently and pressing firm kisses into his hairline as he falls apart. He can’t do that though, his legs are glued to the grass below him, couldn’t move he wanted to. He doesn’t have Aaron anymore either, pulling his eyes away from damage to the ring on his finger. It feels heavy, weighing down on his hand. It’s cool, but he can still feel the heat of Aaron’s fingers as he pushed it onto Robert’s finger, a small smile on his face as he recites his vows in his uncle’s dingy garage.

He’s on his knees before he realises, falls in slow motion. He feels a twinge at his knee, realises theres a small rock digging into his suit trousers, he doesn’t move it, couldn’t possibly try to make himself more comfortable when he can feel his world crumbling like the stone before him. He can feel his heart in his head, temples thumping, theres a vein at his neck thats threatening to burst. It’s as he reaches his hand out again that he feels it, tears pooling in his eyes, tipping over and falling over his cheeks. They’re cold, wet against his flushed skin.

“Jack Sugden, always unbreakable, you said.” His voice is quivering, almost droning as he traces the words. “Put up a cold front, and no one will ever be able to hurt you. That’s what you said. I must have been, what? Sixteen?” He chuckles, it’s low, chest too tight, as he sniffs.

“How’s that working for you? Because it’s not working for me, dad.” He chokes, tears falling thicker and faster than before. The stone is hurting more now, he wants to reach underneath him and throw it, throw it as far and as hard as he can. Wants to break windows, kick down a door. Wants to break every grave in the graveyard, if this happens to his dad, the strong Jack Sugden, he doesn’t want to know what could happen to someone as weak as him. Robert Sudden, the permanent disappointment.

Robert’s fingertips are grey, dirt and mud scattered over his palm from where he’s pushed into the mud, fist clamped tight as he rocks. He can feel a slight trail being left behind on his cheeks as he wipes away at the tears, he thinks of Aaron’s hands, light fingers caressing underneath his eyes, delicate kisses on faint freckles. He couldn’t protect Aaron, couldn’t stop himself from hurting him. He couldn’t help Vic, look after his baby sister like he knows he should. God only knows where Andy is, and now he’s managed to shock even himself, he couldn’t save his dad, couldn’t protect his memory, couldn’t make him proud even in death.

“I’ll never be enough.” He whispers, fingers falling from the grave, fingers grazing the jagged rock painfully.

He knows it’s true.

**Author's Note:**

> i've never written angst before so let me know what you think.
> 
> my tumblr is robertsuggers for any feedback!


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